


there are different ways of getting there (but we’re about to crash)

by ornategrip



Series: Crash [1]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:52:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ornategrip/pseuds/ornategrip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mall AU. Monroe works at Mad Marvin's Music while pining for the cute clerk of Cool Threads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[授权翻译]殊途同归(但我们即将相撞)/there are different ways of getting there (but we’re about to crash)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5308697) by [kiy900](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiy900/pseuds/kiy900)



> For this prompt on the grimm kink meme: http://grimm-kink.dreamwidth.org/1735.html?thread=361927#cmt361927
> 
> My monster fill! I had no idea it would be this long.

"You are such a loser."

Monroe glared at Roddy, who was leaning against one of the DVD stands, looking supremely unimpressed.

"Shouldn't you be stocking?"

The teen waved an insouciant hand.

"It'll take, like, five minutes. I'd much rather watch you moon pathetically over Pretty Boy over there."

Despite himself, Monroe glanced across the way, where 'Pretty Boy' was straightening absolutely hideous jackets on a metal rack. The man glanced up, as if sensing someone watching him and Monroe quickly looked away, pretending to be absorbed in the general catalog.

Roddy tsked and shook his head.

"Such a loser." His voice dripped with saccharine sympathy and Monroe was very tempted to show him some fang. For a damned rat, the kid had an attitude on him. As if knowing what he was thinking, Roddy smirked then finally left to go do his actual job.

"Alphabetical order! You do remember your alphabet, right?" he shouted after him and Roddy flipped him off without turning around.

*

Monroe was not meant to be a clerk. He was going to be a clockmaker. He _was_ a clockmaker, technically but technically didn't pay the bills. And who knew? Clockmaking was a hard business to break into. You had to build a reputation, gather clients, prove you knew what you were doing. So Monroe had filled out applications and told himself to take the first job offered and the first job offered was for Mad Marvin's Music.

He had secretly wondered if the reason he got the job was because of the store owner's obvious obsession with the letter 'm' but hey, a job was a job. And that was how Monroe found himself spending eight hours a day in the mall, the hang out of teenagers, old people and various other types who had horrible taste in music. In fact, everybody except him had horrible taste in music and after the fifth time of trying to convince someone to buy Bach, the manager had taken him aside and forbidden him from doing so again.

The things Monroe did for a paycheck.

Roddy had been hired on a little while later, replacing the slack-jawed twenty year old who never showed up on time. Monroe could admit, grudgingly, that at least Roddy was better than that guy, showing up prompt and on time. He got bonus points for playing the violin and playing it well even if he was a sarcastic little monster. 

He and Roddy weren't the only workers in the store, even if it felt like that sometimes. There was the absentee manager who hired him, of course and who Monroe was fairly certain was lying about his hours to corporate. Then Lisa, the mother of two preteens who worked most mornings with him. Monroe liked her because she always brought cookies. A few other part-timers Monroe didn't bother to learn the names of. Roddy was just the one he seemed to always get stuck with. Goddamned violin prodigy. At least Monroe only had to deal with him from four to closing and the occasional weekend.

It had been awkward the first couple of days, rat and wolf eyeballing each other warily but what the hell. Monroe didn't care about hierarchies and he wasn't the big bad wolf of his ancestry. 'Sides, while he might fantasize about killing some of the more annoying customers, he didn't actually do that kind of thing.

At least not anymore.

But whatever, he did his pilates, ate his vegetables, worked on his clocks, worked in this store and spied on the guy who worked in the clothing store (Cool Threads, what a terrible name) across the walkway. So that was four good things versus one morally questionable thing, really he was practically a saint. He hadn't ever spoken to the guy or even made any eye contact now what he thought about it, he just looked. And looked and looked because the guy was hot, pretty mouth, pretty eyes and Monroe had never been so glad of stocking because it meant the guy bent over a lot, showing off that pretty ass.

And if, every now and again, Monroe felt like some sort of creepy old man pervert, well, he waved that aside. He had to take his kicks were he could these days. It was healthier for him. Besides, the guy was two or three years younger than him at most. It wasn't like he was contemplating robbing the cradle. He wasn't going to rob anything. A relationship was the last thing he needed as long as his libido was not allowed a vote. The lone wolf; that was what he was these days. Yep. Lone wolf.

Roddy shouted at him for help because the stocking that was going to take "like, five minutes" ended up taking a lot longer. Rolling his eyes, Monroe went over anyway. It'd help pass the time till closing.

There'd only been a handful of customers throughout the evening, buying awful music while Monroe had done his best not to roll his eyes and Roddy had hid in the stacks because he was kind of an anti-social bastard. At last, however, it was closing time and Monroe had sent Roddy home thirty minutes ago because he could close all by himself. No point in both of them suffering. He zeroed out the register, put every thing away and hit the lights. The gate was last to go down, Monroe on the other side and he locked it, pocketing the keys. Lisa had her own set that she'd use in the morning to open up.

The mall was eerily quiet and dim, most stores already closed up and nearly all the workers gone. Cool Threads still had its lights on, though, and Monroe could see movement inside, the guy moving about and cleaning up. As he made his way past the store front (very slowly so he could get one last glimpse) the guy was at the register, frowning down at it. Then he glanced up and he and Monroe locked eyes for a split second before Monroe ducked his head and scurried the hell out of there.

*

He lived in a studio apartment, which Monroe was pretty sure was like living in a tenement hall. Because it wasn't like those studio apartments he saw on HGTV (hey don't judge, they had good shows), no, his apartment was a small box with a smaller box bathroom attached to it. He tried to liven the place up but posters felt too high school and paintings just made the rest of the place that much crappier in comparison. He had a pull out sofa bed that stayed a bed because what was the point of putting it up? He hardly ever had anybody over. A tiny television balanced on a dresser and a nightstand held a small lamp he used when reading in bed. His cello sat in the corner.

The rest of the space, as limited as it was, was dedicated to his clockmaking. A big workman's desk he got from his grandfather, god rest the man's soul. Actually, Grandpa was probably somewhere god couldn't get him, come to think of it. Anyway, the desk was his now and he cherished it because it was absolutely perfect for his clockmaking, plenty of space to lay all the delicate pieces out. He spent hours bent over that desk, hard at work. Creating something from scratch. It had been a couple of years since he started but that exhilaration that flowed through him from creating instead of destroying? That was the same and it was a reminder why he choose his current path, a little push to stay on it.

He cooked up some rice and veggies and ate it standing over the sink because some days Monroe embraced his inner loser to its full extent. Not like there was anybody to impress. The only person who ever came by was Hap and even if he was there right at this moment, Hap would still be impressed. Hap was kind of easy to impress. Wearing clean clothes everyday impressed Hap.

After dinner, he sat at his desk to work on a cuckoo clock. He had two already done, packed carefully away in boxes so they wouldn't get damaged. This clock was nearly finished, just needed some more detail work and a bit of shine. He'd take this one and the other two to that small shop on Barley Street in the morning before work. The owner there let him put up his clocks for a small flat fee. He'd only sold one but it was for two hundred and fifty dollars so, yeah. Not bad. The guy had also promised to shoot him any repair work if any came in.

Monroe worked till past midnight, until his eyes began to refuse to focus and if he kept going, he'd risk ruining the clock. He put everything carefully away, made sure his tools were clean and back in place, the clock set aside where it was in no danger of falling. Then he got ready for bed, yawning as he brushed his teeth and got into his pajama pants. Crawling into bed was a relief and he snapped the light off, ready to sleep.

Except for one thing.

Sighing, Monroe stared down at his erection. Seriously?, he asked it silently. I'm tired and you want to do this? His dick didn't answer. He kicked his pants off and spit in his palm. Best get this over with so he could sleep. He stroked himself easily at first, not thinking about anyone in particular, letting the pleasure build slowly as he worked his dick.

He rubbed his thumb over the head, gathered the precum to stroke down the shaft. Not nearly slick enough so he spit into his palm again and stroked some more, spreading his legs open, bending his knees slightly. He rubbed his fingers at the base of his cock, where his knot would swell up if he was pressed up snug inside someone.

He had knotted once or twice with an ex-girlfriend and gotten his ass kicked both times as soon as they managed to get apart. Angelina hadn't exactly been pleased with the whole idea of the breeding thing, even if she had been on the pill. Not really mother material. To be fair, _Monroe_ wasn't too big on the breeding thing either, it was just sometimes when sex got particularly good and they happened to be in the right position, well. Some biological imperatives were just impossible to stop once they got going. He'd learned pretty quickly though, how being close to knotting felt and got pretty adept at pulling out before it happened. Mostly because Angelina was vicious when pissed and being naked in bed with an angry female Blutbad? That was what nightmare were made of.

That was the only time he had ever knotted, inside Angelina or just outside her, spilling what felt like gallons of come on the sheets. He tried to think of her now, her red hair and pale skin, the cruel curve of her mouth.

The image kept morphing, however, hair turning darker and shorter, mouth fuller and sweeter. The guy was gazing coquettishly at him from behind his eyelids and Monroe sighed and gave in to his subconscious. He'd want that mouth wrapped around him, rest the head of his cock on the cupid's bow of his lower lip. The guy would suckle him, pink tongue darting out and yeah, that was it, so good. He kept that image in his head even as he fucked into his fist, grunting on the upstroke.

The guy would let him fist his hands in his hair, let him be a little rough and Monroe would watch the flush rise in his cheeks, see blood stain them red/pink from the inside out. Oh the guy was just made for it, would take it and like it and-

Monroe came all over his belly with a gasp.

Once he calmed down, he felt a little guilty, using the guy like that. And he didn't even know his name! Seemed a little rude somehow. Sighing, he got back up to wash up and finally managed to get to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monroe finally learns Pretty Boy's name.

The guy was wearing a bright red button down, sleeves folded up to display his forearms. It made Monroe's mouth water in not just the right ways. Roddy was giving him worried looks.

"You aren't going to eat him right? You guys and red, that's a bad thing, right?"

"I'm fine." he snapped and Roddy just lifted both his hands in surrender.

"All right, but if you try to eat anybody I'm calling the cops."

Monroe tried to do his job. He rearranged the CDs on the counter, he took inventory of all the headphones (they had plenty of earbuds but could use more over-the-ear models), he even rummaged through the box where they threw all the random fliers and catalogs and cleaned it out.

It didn't help, not with the guy just, just _cavorting_ about in that damn red shirt, looking good enough to eat in more ways than one. The most unfair part of it all, was that he looked amazing in red, it set off his hair and skin. Little red riding hood, updated for the twenty first century and not like that crappy movie staring that Seyfried girl. That movie had been terrible.

The guy was standing near the window, dressing one of the mannequins in a red hooded sweater.

"That's it!" he exclaimed. "I'm taking an early lunch."

Roddy didn't try to stop him, simply moved to the register without a word.

After lunch, the guy's red shirt was gone, leaving him in the plain white tee he must have been wearing underneath it. Monroe was relieved but also a little puzzled; the guy had never changed clothes before. It seemed odd and when he took over behind the register, he noticed Roddy looked far too innocent for his own good.

"What did you do?"

Roddy rolled his eyes.

"You're ungrateful. Anybody ever tell you that?"

"Roddy."

"I took care of it."

When Monroe continued to glower, Roddy sighed.

"I spilled soda on him, you happy?"

Monroe stared at him.

"How the hell did you manage that?"

"I went over, asking for change and accidentally on purpose spilled my drink on him, okay?"

"Oh. Thanks." he said awkwardly because he and Roddy snarked at each other, insulted each other, made fun of each other. It was a little weird to be nice to each other. Roddy shrugged, looking just about as awkward as Monroe felt but that might just have been the fact that they were dealing with the fact that sometimes, Monroe ate people.

"Wait a minute, did you leave the store unattended?"

"Ungrateful. That's what you are."

*

The guy never wore red again, for which Monroe was eternally grateful and the red hooded sweater had disappeared from the front of the store as well, which was fantastic. Monroe wasn't about to question his luck, simply satisfied that he could go to work and not worry about getting his faster, wolfiedog, kill!kill! instincts triggered.

Now that the guy was no longer going around just asking to be brutally murdered, Monroe was back to looking his fill. This was the best time for it; the guy showed up for work at three and Roddy didn't show up until four. He had an hour of blessed rat-free time where he could actually check the guy out and not be mocked for it.

The guy looked bored, not that Monroe blamed him. Cool Threads was currently empty, all the clothes hanging neatly on their hooks. As he watched, covertly of course, the guy pulled a thick book out of his bag and began to read. It looked like a textbook from here and Monroe figured he must be a college student. Maybe he took morning classes and that was why he always worked in the evenings. Made sense.

He wondered what he was studying. Literature? History? Business management? A small part of him secretly hoped it was Music Theory.

He was just fantasizing about long talks about musical theory when an old woman came wandering in, asking about the latest 'Taylor Swifty girl' her granddaughter just loved so much. He spent way too long helping the woman choose which CD to get and quietly died a little when she finally settled on the karaoke version. By then Roddy had arrived, so no more uninterrupted gazing.

Of course, as soon as the old woman was rung up and gone, leaving the store empty of customers, Roddy turned to him.

"You should ask Pretty Boy out."

"Would you stop calling him that?"

Roddy shrugged from where he was rearranging the Avril Lavigne CDs so her face wasn't looking at them with her dead, dead eyes.

"I calls 'em as I sees 'em."

"Why did you even take a southern accent for that? That makes no sense."

"That was my _Texan_ accent and don't change the subject. Just ask him out. Go over and say 'Hey Pretty Boy, I've been staring at you from a distance for like forever, want to see a movie so I can stare at you up close?"

"Sometimes, I wish you dead."

The last of Avril's faces were turned and they both breathed a sigh of relief. Now if they could only do something about that life-sized Justin Bieber cutout. That thing scared the fuck out of Monroe. Before Roddy could keep going, a gaggle of people came in all at once and they both went over to do their jobs.

Roddy didn't actually drop it though, pestering him as soon as everybody was gone except for one lone guy browsing the music posters.

"Seriously, you should ask him out."

"Seriously, I don't know why you care."

"Dude, you need to get laid. Badly. You're so pathetic, I cry a little whenever I see you."

Monroe gave him a look.

"Oh and you get some on a regular basis? What are you, twelve? Thirteen? You can come talk to me when you hit puberty."

"Hardy, har, har. I'm seventeen and I happen to know what sexual frustration looks like. To reiterate, I'm seventeen."

"I think you're a little too into my sex life.You seem to be a voyeur. Now help me take these boxes into the back. The stupid delivery guy always brings them into the front."

"And you seem to be into twinks." Roddy retorted, but came over to pick up one of the boxes. "Tell me, should I be worried for my virtue?"

"You realize that you just called yourself a twink?"

Roddy paused for a second.

"Dammit."

*

 

Weekdays were boring. Nobody ever came to the mall anyway, it was all amazon and online shopping. The few people who did come in, only complained about the prices, saying they could get it cheaper online. What the hell was Monroe supposed to say to that? He wasn't the one who decided the prices, if he was all rap would be less than a penny. No wait, all rap would be priced so exorbitantly high nobody could afford it and then maybe, just maybe, it would die as a genre. He shoved the CDs into their slots a little harder than necessary.

"Uhm, excuse me?"

He turned, long-suffering, and then nearly had a heart attack when he found himself face to face with the man he had been lusting after for weeks. The guy was smiling at him a little hesitantly, as if unsure of his welcome and Monroe quickly schooled his face into something approaching professional.

"May I help you?"

Oh, the guy was even prettier up close, eyes bluegreyblue, lower lip just made for sucking on. That lower lip was moving because the guy was talking and Monroe made himself focus.

"I was wondering what your policy on trading used DVDs was?" The guy was saying, still gazing at him earnestly with those eyes of his. Inside, in his heart of hearts, Monroe was flailing madly. On the outside though, he was cool and calm, smooth and collected.

"Policy?"

Or he sounded like an idiot. Whichever. Roddy, who had made his way in record time from across the store was currently hunkering down two aisle from them, snickering into his palm. Monroe could _hear_ him, the little rat.

"Oh, right. Policy. You can trade them in for cash, but I wouldn't suggest it. You wouldn't get much. Store credit is better. You can use it to get anything in the store."

"Do I get a discount for working in the mall?"

"The mall?"

Great. It seemed he was going to repeat part of everything the guy said.

The guy smiled again, a cute awkward thing that made Monroe's heart thump in his chest.

"I work across the way? In Cool Threads? I thought maybe you'd seen me."

"Oh, right. Yeah, sure I guess."

Roddy was laughing from behind the giant cardboard cutout of Justin Bieber, having scurried that bit closer. As soon as the guy was gone, Monroe was going to rend him limb from limb. The guy who was still staring at him expectantly because he had asked a question, hadn't he?

"Oh, uh, yeah. Ten percent discount on all sales."

"Thanks, Monroe. I'll probably bring some in later this week."

"How do you know my name?" he asked, suddenly suspicious. Seriously. The guy blinked and holy shit, he had long eyelashes.

"Your name tag?"

Right. He glanced down at his chest and there it was, his name tag with a little wolf sticker next to it because Roddy thought he was hilarious. He kept staring at it because it beat looking at the guy he was currently making an ass of himself in front of.

"I'm Nick, by the way."

Nick stuck his hand out and Monroe had no choice but to take it. His grip was firm and warm and since Monroe had used his weirdo quota for the day on this conversation alone, he dropped his hand quickly even though he wanted to linger. Nick was still smiling at him shyly, head ducked down a little and this was totally going to kill Monroe. Nick smelled really good, no cologne to speak of, of which alone Monroe would love him for. Nothing to get in the way of that human smell, iron blood sweet in the back of his throat. There was the faint scent of highlighter clinging to his fingers which added to Monroe's theory that he was a student.

"Monroe. Obviously. You know that. From the name tag." He was babbling, he knew he was babbling and he was yelling at himself to shut up, for the love of all that was holy, shut up but to no avail. His mouth, faithless traitor that it was, kept right on going. "Cool Threads, huh? Do I get a discount there? Not that I'd shop there, the clothes are hideous. Uh, I mean, no offense if you shop there. "

"Monroe only shops at The Outdoorsman. All flannel, all the time."

Roddy, who despite insulting Monroe's taste in clothing, was actually saving him. Nick swiveled around to Roddy, finally freeing Monroe from his gaze.

"Oh hi, Roddy."

"Nick."

"There is nothing wrong with flannel." Monroe managed, gathering the tattered shreds of his dignity around him as best he could. Roddy made a face implying that yes, there was quite a bit wrong with flannel while Nick shot Monroe a quick, sweet smile.

"Nothing wrong with flannel at all." he agreed, cementing Monroe's goodwill towards him, not that it took much, not with that kind of smile. "I don't shop at Cool Threads either, I just buy presents there for the people I don't like. It's passive aggressive and cheap on my wallet. I get twenty five percent off, even on clearance items."

It startled a laugh out of Monroe and Nick looked pleased before glancing at the clock with a frown.

"I better get back," Nick said regretfully. "I'm on my fifteen minute break."

With a wave and a promise to bring in some DVDs to trade, he was gone, heading back to Cool Threads. As soon as he was out of earshot, Monroe turned to glare at Roddy.

"You knew his name this whole time?" Monroe demanded and Roddy shrugged, looking completely unconcerned with Monroe's wrath.

"I spilled soda all over him. Of course I know his name."

"And you couldn't have told me?"

"What? You? Mister lone wolf, I don't do relationships?" At that last part, he changed the intonation of his voice, made it lower pitched and at the same time, a little shrieky.

"I sound nothing like that."

"Yes, you do."

Monroe let him have that last jab because who cared? He got to talk to the guy and even learned his name. Life was looking up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monroe and Nick eat lunch and Roddy gets himself an admirer.

After that, Nick always waved at him whenever he happened to see him waved and smiled brightly, like he was actually happy to see Monroe. And if it put a bounce in his step, it was nobody's business but his own. And Roddy’s, apparently, because the kid would not shut up about.

"Just ask him out. Hell, write 'do you like me?' on a piece of paper so he can check yes or no. I'll even deliver it for you. It'll be just like grade school."

"Don't you have something better to do with your time?"

Roddy made a show of looking around the store, totally devoid of customers.

"Homework to do? They still give homework, don't they?"

"No, they beam it directly into our heads with a laser nowadays." Roddy deadpanned. "You act like you're a hundred years old, you know that? Pretty Boy will never want to date an old man."

"Why do you keep calling him that? You know his name is Nick, you've always known his name was Nick!"

"I call him that because it annoys you." Roddy explained patiently. "Now why don't you take your lunch so I don't have to see your ugly face?"

It was only when Monroe opened the small fridge in the back room that it occurred to him that he had forgotten his lunch. Dammit. This mall did not have any good vegetarian options. Great. Fantastic. Skipping lunch was not an option because a hungry Blutbad? Not a good idea. After a point, _everybody_ started looking like food. Grumbling to himself, he dragged himself over to the food court and ordered from the quasi-Chinese place.

It was dead in here too, only a handful of people sitting at the assorted tables. Better than the Christmas rush, he supposed. It was just when there was nothing to do, time slowed down to a crawl.

He was grimacing down at the food on his tray, berating himself for the hundredth time for forgetting his lunch, when a shadow fell on him. He looked up to find Pretty Bo- Nick! Nick! His name was Nick! Monroe hated Roddy with the fire of seven burning suns. Nick was smiling down at him, tray held in his own hand. As Monroe gaped up at him, he gestured to the table.

"Can I sit here?"

"Uh, yeah, sure! No problem!"

He sounded like an idiot but Nick just slid into the seat across from him, setting his tray down. He glanced over at Monroe's tray.

"I don't usually see you here."

It was faintly questioning and Monroe shrugged, pushing what was supposed to be tofu stir-fry around his plate.

"I'm vegetarian, I usually bring my own lunch and eat it outside. I forgot it today."

Nick looked dismayed.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I have a hamburger, does it bother you? I can go sit somewhere else."

He made to get up and Monroe's arm shot across the table to grab his wrist.

"No, no." he said hastily, "I don't mind at all."

Nick sat back down, his skin warm under Monroe's palm and Monroe snatched his hand away before he molested the man's wrist. They sat in awkward silence for a few moments.

“You a student?” Monroe blurted out, desperate to get the conversation ball rolling before Nick rethought his choice in seating.

Nick looked startled

“Yeah, actually, at PSU. How did you know?”

Because I was watching you constantly before we were even introduced. That wouldn’t go over so well.

“Saw you reading a book, the other day, in Cool Threads. Looked like a textbook.”

The other man flushed and ducked his head.

“I only do that when we don’t have any customers.”

“Hey, hey.” Monroe held up both his hands. “I’m not judging you. I do the same, just not with textbooks. What are you studying?”

Please be music theory, please be music theory…

“Criminal Justice. I want to be a cop.”

Well, shit. Now, technically, Monroe didn’t have a record but that didn’t mean there might not be a chance of his fingerprints at some unsolved crime scene. He had been so stupid then, stupid and vicious and he hated to think about it.

Something of that must of shown on his face because Nick put his hamburger down, head tilted. Monroe actually felt himself go shifty-eyed.

“I, uh, I wasn’t always an upstanding citizen.”

Nick laughed, tilting his throat back a little and dear god, Monroe felt his fangs lengthen at the sight.

“You? I don’t believe it. You’re way too nice. What did you do, jaywalk? Double park?”

He had no idea. Monroe had been the big bad wolf and then some but he managed to smile at Nick now, desperately willing his fangs back in and so glad Nick couldn’t see him like that. His eyes were probably flashing red, to boot.

Nick was still smiling at him, looking at him from beneath those eyelashes and it was so hard to regain control but he managed.

The rest of the conversation went pretty well, if Monroe was allowed to say so. They talked about Nick’s plans; he had a friend who was on the fast track to becoming a detective and was going to help him out with police academy. Nick was pretty set on becoming a cop and even if it the idea made the hairs on the back of Monroe’s neck stand up, he could appreciate the dedication.

Nick glanced at his wristwatch and sighed, looking put out.

"I guess we should head back."

Monroe stood and together they headed for the trash can to get rid of their trays. Nick was starting to walk in the direction of the stores when Monroe stopped him.

"Oh, wait. I have to order something for Roddy."

*

When Monroe returned from his lunch break, there was a bear standing in the middle of the store. Correction: there were three bears in the store. Two of them were browsing the CD section, rap he noticed with some distaste but they only smelled like bear, they didn't look it. The kid standing had his bear face on and it made Monroe's hackles want to rise because you didn't just go around showing your face to everybody. For the most part, you only did that when feeling some deep emotion be it panic, fear, anger. That kind of thing.

And then he saw the bear was staring at Roddy and his instincts went into overdrive and he strode into the store, low warning growl preceding him. And that's when it smacked him in the face, or the nose really, and made him remember there was one more big emotion on that list. Lust. The pheromones coming off the bear was enough to make him stagger.

Roddy's face was bright red.

Ho. Lee. Shit.

Oh. _Oooh._

His inner id was cackling with glee. Roddy had an admirer. A gigantic bear admirer. Served the bastard right. His worry melted away completely because amorous bears were teddy bears, if you'd forgive the metaphor. Utterly besotted once they fixed on a potential mate, they wouldn't harm a hair on the head on their proposed paramour, even if rejected. This was going to be so good.

The bear's friends seemed to finally notice what was going on because they moved away from the music to gather around their friend. They were hissing something to him while he stared open-mouthed at Roddy, who was doing his damnedest to ignore him, staring with intense concentration at a paper Monroe knew for a fact was last week's sales.

Now the bear's friends were pushing something into his hands and prodding him over to the counter where Roddy was still doing his impression of very-involved-in-this-paper guy. His friends got him more than half way there and then they dispersed, falling back to “casually” browse some of the stands.

The kid shuffled over, CD case in one massive hand. He put it carefully on the counter and pushed it towards Roddy as if presenting him with a gift. Come to think of, gifts would probably come later, if all that Monroe had heard about bear mating behavior was true.

Roddy finally put the paper down but didn’t make eye contact, snatching up the disc and scanning it.

“12.88.” he muttered and the bear just continued to stare at him. Roddy finally raised his eyes, blush still staining his cheeks. They made eye contact.

This was just like those soap operas Monroe most definitely didn’t watch when no one was looking.

The other two bears obviously felt the same way, pathetic attempt at looking casual done with as they watched everything unfold just as raptly as Monroe. The bear was still standing there dumbly, apparently drowning in the blue of Roddy’s eyes. Roddy made a sound of impatience and really, if this was how he treated customers whenever Monroe wasn’t around, they were going to have words.

The bear cringed at the sound, fumbling for his wallet before slapping down a twenty. The big moment was when Roddy handed the change to him, their fingers brushing. The bear looked like he was about to faint; Roddy looked faintly murderous.

As soon as he had handed the bear his bag, Roddy turned his back to him, pretending to be busy with a stack of papers. The bear stood there, forlorn looking and his buddies all shook their heads and tsked before gathering him up.

One of them leaned across the counter, grinning slyly even as the poor besotted one tried desperately to stop him.

“Hey, buddy. What’s your name?”

Roddy turned and gave him the darkest look imaginable then turned back to the counter.

“No, seriously, man. My friend here likes you.”

“Jason, c’mon, lets just go.” The bear whined, pulling at Jason’s sleeve and Jason had mercy on his friend and let himself be pulled away. Roddy didn’t turn back around until they were almost out the doors, passing Monroe with barely a glance.

"His name's Barry!" One of the boys yelled as they left the store, Barry bright red between them. Poor kid. He had two friends just like Roddy and Monroe was kind of wondering why'd he want a third. Well, he didn't want Roddy as a friend, he wanted to bang him. Bang him? Great, now _he_ was starting to think like a teenager.

The two boys were laughing, loud and raucous around the mortified Barry as they exited the store and Monroe trailed after them, more out of habit than anything else. Nick was hovering in the entrance of Cool Threads and when he saw Monroe he called out,

"Problem?"

No, Monroe thought. Just a bear wanting to sex up a rat.

"No, its good."

He went back in, taking the time to throw the bag of food on the counter.

"I had left overs," he lied casually. "Eat'em before they go to waste."

The thing was, Roddy didn't always bring food from home and he didn't always have money to buy something either. The first time Monroe had noticed that and said something, Roddy had gone all squirrelly and prickly and Monroe had dropped it. It didn't take much to figure out that Roddy didn’t come from the most financially secure home and Monroe had a tendency to slip the kid food. It was a fine line to walk, giving the kid enough to eat but not too much trigger the chip on his shoulder.

Right now though, Roddy seemed relieved, as if he foolishly believed Monroe wasn’t going to mention what just happened. And Monroe obliged, leaning casually against the counter as Roddy took a bite of his burger and fries.

Hey, just because Monroe didn’t eat meat anymore, didn’t mean he’d begrudge a still growing teenager the protein.

He waited patiently until Roddy was done with the hamburger and was just polishing off the fries when he said casually,

“I didn’t think you were into bears. A little cross species love, huh?”

The flush that had slowly faded race up his face again, turning Roddy bright red.

Yeah, Monroe thought smugly. Let’s see how you like it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monroe's love love life is moving along nicely. So is Roddy's.

Monroe stared down at a copy of Big Momma's House. Nick turned red.

"It was a joke gift. I've never even watched it."

Monroe chose to believe him because otherwise he couldn't stand to live in a world where he found attractive a man who enjoyed Martin Lawrence in a fat suit. Nick was still blushing and Monroe had to admit to himself that even if Big Momma’s House was Nick’s favorite movie, Monroe would still want to have sex with him.

The rest of the pile wasn’t nearly as horrifying, just your typical selection of random blockbusters and the like. Some of this stuff they had more than enough copies of already and Monroe should refuse to accept them. Nick was giving him that shy smile again.

He rang them all up.

“That comes out to $30.15 in store credit. You going to use it up now or do you want me to start an account for you?”

“Oh, I guess I’ll just buy something now.”

Monroe should really stay at the register just in case a customer wanted to ring up but Nick was smelling so good. He must have taken a shower before heading over, shampoo and a no nonsense soap clinging to him. It was easy enough to scent him out, to smell his skin, to smell the real Nick.

And no, this wasn’t creepy at all.

All Blutbaden had a scent kink. It was part of their genetic make-up.

He trailed after Nick as the other man walked over to the used DVD section.

“Anything in particular?”

Nick shook his head, stopping in the comedy section.

“I was just going to look around, see if anything caught my eye. I might just buy some music. Any suggestions?”

Finally!

“Oh, I don’t know.” Monroe said casually, stretching himself against the DVD tower. “I listen to mostly classical.”

Curious, Nick came a little bit closer to where Monroe was leaning, bringing that sweet scent of his wafting closer.

“Really? I have to admit, it isn’t my thing although I have liked the stuff I’ve caught here and there. So you like classical, huh?”

Okay, here it was. Don’t screw this up, Monroe.

“I play the cello.”

Nick looked impressed. That’s right. Hook, line and sinker. Who could resist a man who played an instrument?

Nick was opening his mouth to no doubt shower Monroe with admiration when his phone rang. Tossing Monroe an apologetic look, he fumbled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen.

“Oh, damn. I have to take this. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He wandered off, phone to his ear as he answered the call and Monroe was definitely not sulking.

Roddy popped up like an imp from hell.

"Did you just try to impress him with your mad cello skillz?"

Monroe could even hear the z at the end of that and not-so-secretly hated his life.

“Where the hell did you come from?”

Roddy quirked a brow at him.

“Wow, you must have it bad. I was hiding behind the DVD stack the whole time. Did Pretty Boy take up all your attention?”

“Shh!” Monroe hissed, taking a quick glance at Nick, who mercifully was still involved in his conversation. “He might hear you.”

The look on Roddy’s face said he was about to say something scathing but a woman’s voice called out from the front of the store.

“Excuse me? I’d like to make a return?”

Monroe looked over to find a frazzled looking woman standing by the register. He turned back to Roddy to tell him to handle it but Roddy had already vanished, scurrying away like a rat in the dark. Dammit.

He made his way over to the register, pasting a smile on for the woman as he asked her what she needed help with. It should have been a quick transaction, Monroe had been working there long enough to know the ins and out of about everything but of course it didn’t work out like that.

For some damn reason, the credit card didn’t want to go through and he had to try like fifteen different things before it refunded her money when he retried the thing he had done in the first place. By then, Nick was coming up to the register, a few items in his hand. Roddy was beside him, smirking at Monroe’s dark look.

“Thanks for your help.” Nick was telling Roddy who wiped the smirk on his face just in time to give Nick a completely innocent smile.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all, is it Monroe? It’s my job after all.”

At his name, Nick turned to him, eyes big and mournful.

“I’m sorry about that call. It was my aunt; I had to take it. She’s coming for a visit, I haven’t seen her in over a year.”

“It’s fine.” Monroe assured him as he took his items to ring up. “I don’t mind.”

Nick was buying a couple of MST3K DVDs, thank god. Monroe's belief in his good taste was restored. And then he got to the CD and when he read the title, he looked up, startled. Nick looked embarrassed again.

“I just thought I should try it out. Roddy picked it out for me.”

“No, that’s great. You’ll have to tell me how you like it.”

Classics: Greatest Hits rung up and he tucked it carefully inside the plastic bag and handed it to Nick.

“Oh,” Nick said before he left, “The cello, that’s like a big violin right?’

Afterwards, once Nick was gone, Monroe dropped his head on the counter and buried it in his arms.

"He's an idiot." Monroe moaned and Roddy patted his head.

"There, there. He's still the prettiest thing working in the mall."

*

Of course, Monroe’s love life wasn’t the only one getting some traction.

Barry the Bear had hovered outside the shop window a few times but the poor guy hadn’t yet worked up the courage to actually come in. Secretly, Monroe thought it was kind of sweet, in a sickening teenage emo way. Like Twilight, for bears.

Today however, he was lingering at the front of the shop two steps from being inside it, so hey, he was making progress. Monroe glanced over at Roddy who was busy fashioning a flier into a paper airplane.

“You ever going to talk to him?”

“No.”

“Seems kind of harsh.”

“Your face is kind of harsh.”

“Wow. Excellent comeback.” Monroe turned to look at the bear again. He was now one step from being inside. He just might make it in this time. “You know, if you don’t want him around, just tell him. He’s a Jägerbar, once you say no, he’ll back off.”

A strange look crossed Roddy’s face, like it was trying to make several expressions at once and failing miserably. He didn’t say anything and Monroe had an inkling.

“You know, I can do that for you. I can go tell him you aren’t interested.”

Roddy glared down at the counter, mouth turned down at the corners.

“As a matter of fact,” Monroe went on, “I can go do that right now.”

He made a show of heading towards Barry, still lurking by the entrance.

“Don’t!” Roddy shouted suddenly, lunging across the counter to grab at Monroe. Game, set, match, kid. Monroe knew he was just as interested in the bear as the bear was in him. Hah.

Said bear was suddenly between them, shouldering Monroe away from Roddy hard enough to make him stumble back.

And now, if this had been an adult Jägerbar, Monroe would have wolfed out on instinct, showed his fangs and snarled out a challenge. But since this was a wet-behind-the-ears kid? Well, it was absolutely adorable, a teenage bear going after a full grown wolf. It made Monroe want to pat his head and give him cookies.

That or hit him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.

“Is he bothering you?” Barry was asking Roddy, still between him and Monroe, head ducked low and shoulders up high. Hulking like a bear, ready to swipe one massive paw. Monroe just snorted and straightened his shirt. The newspaper thing was sounding better and better.

“No, no. It’s fine. He’s a friend. It’s okay.”

Roddy reached across the counter, put a hand on Barry’s arm and the bear just _melted_ , all fight and aggression going out of him in the blink of an eye. He turned to Roddy, dopey look on his face. Roddy was flushing, face turning pink and dropped his hand even if it looked like it wanted to linger there.

“I have something for you.” Barry said shyly, digging into his pockets and producing a small container. It was rosin. At Roddy’s surprised look, Barry became anxious.

“You play the violin, right? I didn’t know what brand you used so I just had the clerk pick one out. He said this was a pretty good brand.”

Honest to god, the bear twiddled his thumbs and scuffed his foot against the cheap carpet.

“You can throw it away if you don’t like it.”

“No, this is great. It’s fantastic. It’s just, how did you know I play the violin?”

Now it was Barry’s turn to blush, dropping his eyes to the counter.

“I went to the Von Hamelin concert last night. I heard you play. You’re really good.”

“Hey!” Monroe exclaimed, “You didn’t tell me you were playing. I told you I wanted to go to the next one.”

Roddy hadn’t come in yesterday but Monroe had just assumed it was random scheduling. He had gotten stuck with the kid who smelled weird and breathed through his mouth.

Roddy cut him a dark look before turning back to Barry who hadn’t even glanced Monroe’s way, just continued to stare adoringly at Roddy.

Fine, he knew when he wasn’t wanted. He drifted over to the front of the store. They had a table set out full of clearance items (mostly seasons of Saved by the Bell) and poked at it half-heartedly, keeping an eye on the two teenagers.

The kid was going from bear to human to back again. Christ, it was like the visual version of a kid's voice cracking. Monroe shook his head. Embarrassing. You couldn't pay him a million dollars to be a teenager again. As an adult, at least, he had superb control.

"Hey, Monroe."

Monroe wolfed out. Nick was smiling at him, completely oblivious and smelling so good that Monroe had trouble slipping back into his human facade. He managed, just barely and took long enough that Nick's smile was beginning to fade. Oh god, he must look totally insane.

"Sorry." he blurted out, "Something in my eye."

Somewhere behind him, Roddy snorted, apparently distracted from his own sweet bear love by Monroe's mortification. Monroe was turning his head to yell something at him when two hands came up and cupped his face. He gaped as Nick pulled his head down to stare critically into his eyes.

"I don't see anything." Nick said, completely unaware that he was destroying Monroe's mind and making his dick sole controller of his body. "Is it still there?"

Monroe made a noise that might have been taken as an affirmative if you were being generous, which Nick apparently was because next he said,

"Here, I'll blow."

Then he pursed his lips, made them a round 'o' and yeah, Monroe was going to use this for masturbation fodder for _years >. He'd be hearing Nick's voice saying 'blow' for the rest of his life, it'd be in the back of his head like some weird, magical soundtrack._

Nick blew air into his face, and geez, even his breath smelled nice, minty and cool like he’d been sucking on a candy. Sucking. Yeah, Monroe was going to have to run to the bathroom after this was over. He made a show of blinking his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, I think you got it. Thanks.”

Nick dropped his hands from his face and Monroe mourned the loss of contact, he really did.

“I was just about to take my lunch break. Can you come too?”

Monroe said yes so fast he nearly cut his tongue on his still extended canines.

*

When he came back, Roddy was sitting at the register looking bored. The bear was nowhere to be seen.

"You should just bang him. He totally wants you."

"Bang him?" Monroe mimicked. "What are you, twelve years old?"

And then in a smaller voice,

“You really think so?”

Roddy nodded.

“Go for it, dude.”

*

Monroe had to admit, things were going pretty good between him and Nick. Nick took to dropping in on his fifteen minute breaks and Monroe brought his lunch out to the food court so they could sit together. It was nice and Monroe was thinking that all this might actually lead to a relationship.

So, of course, something terrible happened.

Something named Angelina.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelina blows into town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up an OMC who’s only mentioned briefly in regards to his death. I thought about using Rolf but in Three Bad Wolves I thought it was implied that Rolf was a Wieder Blutbad as well.

She came strutting into the shop on a Wednesday evening looking as good as always, red hair hanging riot down her back, smile sharp and toothy. Roddy took one look at her and vanished into the back room, survival instincts kicking to the fore.

"Monroe!" she shouted, completely unnecessarily because Monroe was already hurrying over in near panic.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, grabbing her by the arm and steering her towards the entrance. "You need to leave. You need to leave, now."

Angelina struggled in his grasp and yeah, he was strong enough to hold her but only if he hurt her in the process. He let her go and she grinned at him, that same grin that always got his blood roiling and tempted him to do bad things.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and when he glanced over it was to see Nick, looking curiously from across the way. So, really, there was only one way this could go down because life hated Monroe and wanted him to suffer.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Angelina leapt at him so he had no choice to catch her. She twined herself around him like an octopus (and dude, they were wolves, it didn't even make any sense), tongue in his mouth before he could even say "what the hell?".

And the thing was, Angelina was utterly insane, completely dangerous, viciously cruel and could still get his motor running on a bad day. So he kissed her back, but only a little!, and it was only when his big brain kicked online that he tore his mouth away.

"Angelina! Stop!"

When he finally managed to pry Angelina off of him, Nick was gone from the window.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Angelina was staring at him with narrowed eyes and he licked his lips, tasting her despite himself. Fuck.

“You need to leave.” he told her firmly, a little snarl in his voice. “I don’t do this anymore.”

Angelina scoffed, eyes blazing red and crossed her arms.

“I’m not leaving,” she said, “Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on with you.”

"I'm Wieder now. I'm clean. That stuff is all behind me.”

"Hap told me you'd gone straight too, but I didn't believe it. I thought this was just some kind of cover."

"Cover? This is my life Angelina, you need to accept that."

She flung her arms out to encompass the store.

“And is this what you want? Some tamed dog catering to the humans? I smell a fucking rat back there, Monroe. Why haven’t you torn him to pieces?”

He wolfed out, bared his fangs viciously enough that Angelina took a step back.

“Stay away from him.”

“Fine,” she said. "Fine."

And with a toss of her hair she was gone, stalking out of the store like the alpha predator she was, shoving over a rack of CDs as she went.  And part of him, the part of him he fought constantly now that he was Wieder, _ached_ to follow her, to run into the night and howl at the moon. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply, calming exercises that he hadn't really had to use for at least a year now.

It would be Angelina who shredded his control, who tore down all he had painstakingly built in less than five minutes.

"Wow."

Roddy was staring down the way Angelina had disappeared to.

"Were you like a gang leader or something? Also, Nick totally saw that, you two-timing monster."

"Shut up and help me pick up all these CDs."

*

She was in his apartment when he got there. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Very few locks could keep Angelina out from somewhere she wanted to be. She had taken her jacket off, pale skin against his bed sheets because she was lying back on his bed, smirking at him as he walked in.

And oh, a part of him, a wild, deadly part of him wanted to press her to the mattress, wanted to bite her and taste her blood, drink it down. Wanted to fuck her, as wild and as rough as he used to.

But he wasn’t that man anymore, wasn’t that wolf. Now, he was just tired.

“What do you want?”

She snorted, sat up a little, licking her lips, gleam of fang in the low light.

“What I’ve always wanted: you.”

“Bullshit. What do you want?”

“I want you, Monroe. I want us to go hunting together, I want us to be _together_ , just like old times.”

She stood up, came over to him, pressed her hand to his face. And for a moment, he shut his eyes, let himself breathe her in. There was a time when her scent was the only thing that surrounded him, the only thing that mattered. He shook his head, took her hand and gently pulled it from his cheek.

“That was a long time ago.”

Like lightning, she slashed at his face and instinct had him jerking back just in time to avoid the brunt of her attack. Her claws only left pink, burning lines across his skin as opposed to red, bleeding gouges. He shoved her hard and she fell back, snarling.

Shit, he had forgotten how quickly she could change moods, had somehow forgotten the power of her temper.

“You’re going to throw me away just like that? Just toss me aside like I’m trash now that you’ve got your new fangled life?

"And what would you know?" he retorted, letting his fangs out. "You're the one who dropped me for Adam Hauptmann of all people."

The look on her face, dammit. Like he had slapped her and he loved her, always would because they had run together in the night, hunted and killed together and those bonds didn’t break. But he didn’t want her, not anymore. Not when it would eventually cost him everything.

“Raoul is dead, Angelina. That Grimm killed him, cut him to pieces and you know what? He deserved it. We all deserved it but Raoul was the one who got caught. You really want to live like that? Hunt or be hunted? I’m done with that. I don’t want that.”

He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

“And I guess I don’t want you.”

The look she gave him, just this look like she didn’t understand why he was breaking her heart. He went to the door and opened it.

“You should go.”

“Yeah,” she said, voice rough, snatching up her jacket. “Yeah, I should.”

She left.

*

For the next two weeks, Nick avoided him.

Monroe tried desperately to catch his eye whenever he saw him, but Nick would just duck his head and turn the other way. When Monroe waved at him, Nick pretended he couldn’t see him and when Monroe went to the food court, he sat lonely at a table waiting for Nick who never showed up.

“Just go over.” Roddy told him. “Just go over and talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to see me. He doesn’t even like me.”

Monroe was moping around the drama section, mostly because it seemed appropriate and also, because the manager told him to straighten it up. The thing was, Angelina had made him wonder if maybe a relationship, especially with a human, was such a good idea. Obviously, those urges were still alive in Monroe; how fair would it be to Nick to be with someone who had to keep so many secrets? Maybe he really should just be the lone wolf.

Roddy smacked him with a copy of Blood Rayne 2: Deliverance. And what the hell was that doing in the drama section? Maybe the manager was right, they did have to straighten up this area.

“You are so stupid. If he didn’t like you, of course he’d want to see you. It’s because he likes you that he doesn’t want to see you!”

Monroe paused from where he was rubbing his arm, that damned Blood Rayne hurt, to try to parse what Roddy just said.

“Are you speaking some special teenager language? I have no idea what you just said.”

“Look, if he just thought of you as a friend, then he wouldn’t care at all about you sexing up some hot redhead in the store-”

“Hey!” Monroe protested. “It was just a kiss!”

Roddy went on, as if Monroe hadn’t even spoken.

“-but if he was thinking about dating you, god knows why, seeing you get your mack on with some chick would totally be a downer.”

That actually made sense.

“So he’s jealous?”

“That and probably kicking himself for crushing on a straight guy.”

Oh. It gave him something to think about.

*

After another day of Nick avoiding him at all costs, Monroe trudged home, thoroughly depressed and what he saw when he came to his door made him groan.

Hap was sitting on the steps leading to his apartment, a grocery bag sitting beside him.

"Hey, man!" he said cheerfully as Monroe came up. "Angelina is pissed at you like you wouldn't believe."

"I can believe." he said sourly, unlocking his door and letting Hap come inside. "I can believe very much."

Hap laughed, scratching at his belly with his free hand.

"Yeah, I bet you can. Man, it took both Rolf and me over an hour to calm her down. I thought she was going to come back over here and try to kill you. That would’ve been uncool.”

Hap wandered over to the kitchen, plopped his grocery bag on the counter before heading to the bed and flopping down on it. Getting his scent all over it. Great, now Monroe would have to change the sheets before going to bed.

"I told her. I said, 'Angelina, Monroe's gone clean now, just like me!' But you know how she is.”

Sighing, Monroe went to join him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Hap patted his arm.

“Our Wieder Church leader said it’d be tough. You need to talk?”

Monroe shook his head.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just- _Angelina_.”

“She just did a number on you.” Hap nodded knowingly. “You two, you were always tied at the hip. Kind of fed off each other, back in the day. Can’t be easy, turning that down. But you did, so good for you.”

“That’s your sister you’re talking about. Shouldn’t you be on her side?”

Hap laughed again, that great big laugh of his.

“She’s my sister but dude, you’re my friend. Us Wieder Blutbaden gotta stick together. You were there when I needed somebody. Now I can be here if you need me.”

“She just reminded me of everything, all the stuff we did. What happened to Raoul.”

“Raoul, man, Raoul. I try not to think about that myself. Sick shit, you know?”

“How do you deal with it? All the bad stuff we did?”

Hap got quiet, contemplative and that was a sight to behold. Hap, contemplative. After a few silent minutes, he spoke.

“I tell myself I ain’t never gonna do that again. I can’t make up for what I did, Monroe. None of us can. We can only try to be better.”

Hap slapped him on the back and then stood.

“We good, bro?”

Monroe laughed a little, managed a small smile. Hap was right; he couldn’t change the past but he could sure as hell make sure the future was better. Maybe even be a future with Nick in it.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“Cool, cause I gotta split. I’m talking to this guy about crepes. You know crepes? Dude, they’re like this super thin pancakes, they’re fucking awesome.”

“I know what crepes are.”

“Oh yeah, you probably do. Anyway man, you want to talk, you know my number.”

Hap bounced on his heels, played with the zipper of his jacket. When Monroe lifted his eyebrows in question, he grinned sheepishly.

“About Angelina? We were all bad, you know? But I think sometimes, Angelina was badder than most. She’s my sister and I love her, but honestly? You’re better off without her. She’s wild, man, always will be."

With that, he headed for the door.

“Hey!” Monroe called out to him as he left. “Your grocery bag.”

Hap waved a hand and kept going.

"Peace offering, man. Sorry for not giving you a head's up that my sister was back in town. You eat nothing but veggies now, right?"

When Monroe looked in the bag, it held nothing but rutabagas.

*

In the morning, when he came down to his car, Angelina sat there, lounging against her motorcycle. It made him pause for a second and then walk up warily. She was staring down at the helmet in her hands.

“I don’t get you.” she said quietly, without looking up. “Just like I don’t get Rolf or Hap.”

“Angelina…” Monroe said, soft and pained and she shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter if I get it. I still love them and..” she broke off, cleared her throat. “And I still love you. Enough to give you what you want.”

She straightened, moving to straddle her bike.

“I’m going to New Orleans for a while. Probably won’t be back for a long time. Just thought I’d let you know.”

“Thank you.” For more than just the head’s up. This, right here, was the closest he’d ever get to her blessing. He was surprised at how much it meant to him.

“I don’t know if it’ll always be like this. I might try to kill you next time I see you.” she warned. “You know me.”

Monroe smiled.

“Yeah, I know you. Always wild.”

On impulse, Monroe stepped forward, pressed one last chaste kiss to her mouth. It felt like an ending of an era, the last dangling loose thread tied up. When he pulled back, she slid on her helmet and took off without another word. Monroe stood there, watching the direction she’d left in, until he could no longer hear the rumble of her engine.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monroe meets Hank and Wu and finally clears things out with Nick.

Things didn’t really get better with Nick even with Angelina gone.

He still managed to avoid Monroe like he was some sort of ninja. He had disappearing skills that rivaled Roddy’s. And to top it off, the fact Monroe couldn’t manage to catch him made him feel like a failure as a wolf. He was supposed to be a born hunter and he couldn’t even catch the clerk from Cool Threads, the guy who worked in the shop _right across from him_.

There had to be special meetings he could go for this. Like “How To Get Your Hunt On” or something.

On the plus side, Barry started hanging out in the store. At least Monroe could get some cheap kicks out of that, what with Roddy’s semi-permanent blush and the strange assortment of gifts piling up in the back room. Monroe could have sworn he’d seen a bag of rat food back there but every time he tried to investigate Roddy would appear and chase him away.

Reinegen were surprisingly possessive about their things, who knew?

To be honest, he couldn’t tell if they were at the dating stage or not. Roddy was a prickly little bastard even at the best of times but he seemed to soften around Barry and Monroe often found them murmuring to each other quietly, words too soft for Monroe to hear.

Ah, teenage love.

Barry seemed happy enough and also, Monroe hadn’t had to shell out extra cash to feed Roddy. The Jägerbar usually came armed with a basket loaded with food. He was temped to make some sort of pick-a-nick basket boo boo joke but decided he’d be too depressed if they had no idea what he was talking about.

He had way too much to be depressed about already.

On Wednesday, two men came in, a tall black guy and a shorter Asian man and normally Monroe wouldn’t have paid them much mind except they stared at him. The Asian guy was just eyeballing him curiously at least, the other guy looked like he wanted to murder him.

He sniffed the air as unobtrusively as possible. Well, they were human. No creatures here looking for revenge and they certainly weren’t a Grimm. He went and hid behind the stacks and strained his ears.

“-see in that guy. He looks like a lumberjack.” The black guy was saying, sounding unhappy.

“Be nice. We don’t know anything about him and honestly, I kind of think he rocks that beard.”

“Now I really don’t like him.”

“Oh stop it. If you’re mean to him, Nick will kill you. We aren’t supposed to be here in the first place.”

“Well, what did he expect, Juliette says he’s been moping for weeks now.”

Nick? Monroe’s ears definitely pricked up at that. These guys knew Nick? And who was Juliette? Another noise made him look up the aisle. Roddy stood at the end of it, a disgruntled look on his face.

“What the hell are you doing now?”

“Shhh!” He hissed, gesturing for Roddy to come closer. The teen did so warily, like he was afraid he was going to catch Monroe’s weirdness.

“Those guys know Nick.”

“Oh yeah?”

He began to peer over the stack and Monroe grabbed him and jerked him back down.

“They’ll see you!”

“So?”

“Just shut up so I can listen.”

Roddy rolled his eyes but shut up, careful to keep his head ducked down. Monroe started listening again.

“-blow our cover, okay? Let me handle this. Now just grab something so we can buy it.”

“Grab what?”

“I don’t care, just anything. We need an excuse to go to the counter.”

“Fine.”

They both fell silent and he could hear them moving about, heading towards the register, no doubt. When he turned to Roddy, Roddy just shrugged.

“Better go ring them up.”

“That’s it? That’s your advice?”

“I didn’t realize you were asking for advice.” Roddy retorted.

“Maybe you should ring them up.”

“Sorry!” Roddy said cheerfully, “I’m busy!”

And then he pulled that vanishing act he did so well. Monroe wondered if it was a Reinegen thing because Roddy could slip away from things like magic. Monroe was staring right at him and he had no idea where he went. Dammit. Reluctantly, he trudged out of his hiding place. The two men were standing by the register, looking a little impatient and he hurried over.

“Sorry about that.”

The Asian guy just smiled at him, setting a DVD on the counter. The other guy glowered like Monroe had pissed in his yard. Which could have been a distinct possibility, say six years ago.

“So,” the Asian guy said, leaning against the counter as Monroe punched his code into the register. “You know Nick?”

His friend jerked around to glare at him even as Monroe nodded, surprised the guy had just brought it up like that. His friend seemed surprised too, and none too pleased.

“What happened to keeping our cover?”

The other guy waved a hand.

“Please, you would have destroyed our cover anyway, I’m just preempting your inevitable failure. Promise me you’ll never go into vice.”

The guy looked mildly affronted and Monroe just stared at them because he had no idea what the hell was going on.

“I’m Wu.” The guy added and pointed at his friend. “This is Hank.”

“We have guns.”

Wu elbowed Hank.

“We’re cops, that’s why we have guns.” Wu hastened to assure Monroe, like that was going to help. Basically, he’d just been told they could murder him and most likely get away with it. “What my boyfriend here is trying to say is, we’ve heard quite a bit about you from Nick and thought we’d come by to check you out.”

“Do you have a record?” Hank demanded and Monroe was saved from answering by Nick running into the shop full tilt.

“Hank! What are you doing?!”

Hank looked at Wu.

“I thought today was his day off?”

Wu shrugged. “Juliette said it was.”

Nick looked furious and embarrassed and Monroe stared at him because he hadn’t really seen him in weeks. Nick glanced his way, met his eyes and then jerked his gaze away almost instantly. His cheeks were flushed.

“I got called in! Not that it matters. What the hell are you two doing?”

“Now, now,” Wu said placatingly, “We just wanted to buy some DVDs. See?”

He held up the copy of Battlefield Earth.

They all stared at it. Wu turned to Hank.

“This? This is what you grabbed?”

“I just grabbed it at random!” Hank exclaimed defensively, “I didn’t even look at the title.”

Wu just shook his head in disappointment.

“I’m never bringing you on one of my missions again.”

“Hey!” Nick interrupted. “None of this is explaining what you’re doing here.”

Wu gave him a look. And then gave Monroe a look. And then did it again and again as Nick got redder and redder. Hank just looked unimpressed by all three of them.

“Okay! Okay!” Nick shouted without Wu having to say a word. He grabbed both Wu and Hank by their upper arms and started hauling them out of the store.

“Hey! I was going to buy that- okay, no I wasn’t but still.”

“Let’s just go.” Nick gritted out and Monroe was trying desperately to catch his eye. Nick managed to avoid that, pulling his friends out of the store as they protested.

“It was nice meeting you!” Wu called out as Nick dragged them away. Hank just kept glaring until they were out of sight.

Monroe had no idea what the hell just happened.

*

The next day, Roddy came into work, took one look at Monroe sitting despondently at the register and declared,

“Okay, I’ve had enough of this.”

When Monroe only shifted listlessly, Roddy came over and planted his hands on the counter.

“You need to man up, or wolf up, I don’t even know. I just know you need to do it. You need to march right over there, tell Nick how you feel about him and just get this over with.”

Monroe didn’t move.

“Look, Nick likes you, okay? He likes you a lot and you like him a lot and this is absolutely bullshit, the two of you mooning after each other. For fuck’s sake, Barry and I are the teenagers here, but you two are the ones acting like emo fifteen year olds!”

Monroe twitched. Roddy went on.

“You’re a goddamned wolf, a fucking Blutbad. Barry worked up courage faster than you. You gonna let that happen? You gonna let a _Jägerbar_ be tougher than you? Huh? Are you?”

Monroe straightened. Roddy was right; he was a Blutbad, the baddest of the bad, the toughest of the tough. He stood and slapped his hand on the counter.

“You’re right, goddammit. I’m the big bad wolf, I can do this. I’m going to march right over there and tell Nick how it is!”

He got as about as far as the doors of the music store when he caught sight of Nick, sitting behind the counter, reading another textbook. Nick looked so perfect, so mouth-wateringly wonderful that his courage wavered, made his feet stumble to a stop. Why would someone like Nick want someone like Monroe?

Monroe looked over his shoulder at Roddy.

‘Go.’ Roddy mouthed, making a shooing motion and Monroe steeled himself then darted across the corridor and entered Cool Threads at near a dead run.

When he came careening in like some sort deranged roadrunner, Nick looked up, startled. Monroe didn’t blame him, how often did a crazy man come shooting into the store like a bat out of hell? And just how many animal similes was he going to use to describe himself? You’d think he’d at least use one with a wolf.

“What-” Nick was starting to say and Monroe had to get this out before he lost his nerve.

“She’s my ex.” Monroe blurted out. “I’m bisexual.”

And then he had to goggle at his own audacity. When he had fantasized about this late at night, it had gone a lot differently. He’d been smooth, casually dropping that Angelina was a crazy ex-girlfriend and then he’d make an awesome joke about how none of his ex-boyfriends were like that.

Nick would be reassured about his interest and impressed with his social skills.

Yeah, he was guessing this was not going to end the way it had in his head. Nick was staring at him from over his textbook, mouth agape.

“So, yeah.” He finished lamely. “Just thought you should know.”

And then he turned, hurried but not running because he wanted to try to keep what little dignity that he had left.

“Wait!”

At Nick’s voice, Monroe stopped his retreat, turning to face the other man as he came around the counter. He was inwardly cringing, terrified he was going to get the ‘I don’t feel that way about you’ talk. Nick came close, and oh, Monroe had missed his scent, had only caught whiffs of it these past two weeks.

Nick came closer, put his hand on Monroe’s arm, smiling up at him from behind those eyelashes. Monroe had missed that too.

“Are you free Saturday evening?”

When Monroe nodded dumbly, he sidled in even closer, his nearness making Monroe’s heart pound.

“Do you want to go see a movie? Maybe dinner first and then a movie?”

Monroe opened and closed his mouth several times but nothing came out. He swallowed, cleared his throat and his voice only came out a little scratchy.

“It’ll have to be after eight. That’s when I get off of work.”

Nick beamed up at him. “Late dinner and even later movie, then?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. Great.”

Nick pulled out his cell phone and they exchanged numbers. The whole time Monroe felt like he was in a dream, except usually when he was dreaming about Nick things got a lot more x-rated. The fact that Nick wasn’t naked and covered in chocolate sauce while saying what a naughty boy he was, added credence that this was really happening.

After Nick wrung one last promise from him to call, Monroe left Cool Threads, utterly overwhelmed in all the best ways possible. He stumbled back into Mad Marvin’s Music, no doubt a stupid looking expression on his face.

Roddy was waiting for him.

“Well,” he demanded impatiently as soon as Monroe was close enough. “How did it go?”

Monroe grinned at him, still a little dazed.

“We’re going on a date.”


	7. Chapter 7

